Other Paths Taken: Resurgence
by Cadsuane
Summary: Part 5 of 5.  Short epilogue for the Other Paths Taken series.


A bit of explanation. This is basically an epilogue to the Other Paths Taken series. It will be the last entry I do for it. I could have simply included this as a fourth chapter to Submergence, but chose not to for a very specific reason. In each part of this story, I tried to present an issue to be faced by Alistair and Breonna and then have them resolve that. I feel this part wouldn't have gone well with Submergence because it doesn't fit in with that trend.

This may make the end of Submergence better for you. It may make it worse. For me, it's the former, though a couple paragraphs in here made me weep, but more because I was happy rather than sad.

Enjoy.

* * *

The roses began appearing one year after King Alistair's death.

Queen Breonna formally stepped down over the winter, claiming it was time for Rhoswen to assume her father's throne, and that while she would always remain to advise her daughter, she wanted time to enjoy her grandchild. So she became Queen-Mother Breonna and turned her attention to more charitable works instead of running the country.

And while she did indeed devote a great deal of time to helping Denerim's less fortunate, she also expressed a desire to add a more personal touch. It started in the gardens of the royal palace.

As soon as the ground thawed, workmen began digging the gardens up. Old plants were removed, soil overturned and rose bushes planted. When spring arrived, they bloomed, revealing beautiful, white roses. The citizens of Denerim said it was her tribute to her lost king, taken from her so tragically young.

After five years, the royal gardens were lined with the rose bushes. Breonna always tended to the first of the bushes herself, planted even before the king's death, ensuring that they were the healthiest and well cared for in the gardens. Queen Rhoswen was often seen walking in the gardens with her mother and her family. Nobles, seeking to curry favor, also took to planting similar bushes around their estates.

Breonna spent every winter with her brother in Highever after King Alistair's passing. No one was surprised when the roses also began appearing around Castle Cousland. What did surprise people was when the roses appeared in Vigil's Keep and Amaranthine. Though quiet questions were asked, it was never discovered who ordered the roses planted there. Some would have suspected Warden-Commander Anora responsible, but she had departed Ferelden with her second, Nathaniel Howe, three years earlier.

After ten years, the Queen-Mother turned her attention to the rest of city, planting the flowers first in small public parks and then elsewhere. Soon, anywhere there was a free space in the city, a rosebush was found occupying it. Not all of them survived. Vandals and weather took their toll, but every spring found new bushes replacing the ones that were lost.

After twenty years, Denerim began to gain the title of "The City of White Roses." Visitors who arrived when the roses are in bloom were awed by them. They were everywhere in the city and no matter where one went, the smell of roses drifted through the streets.

After thirty years, the Queen-Mother seemed to finally deem her work complete. Her hair now completely white, like her roses, she stopped having them planted, though there was almost no where left where they could be planted. The "Rose Queen" continued to spend time in her gardens, still tending to those first bushes.

By then, the tale of the epic love between Breonna and Alistair, a love that no number of years could diminish, was known to all. The stories and songs were never told or sung in her presence, but they came to her attention all the same. She often smiled when she heard of them, a sweet sad smile, and called them pretty.

She never said that words cannot capture the truth. That when bards sing of love, what they describe is a pale, wispy thing—that real love is deep and hard and when it's lost, nothing is ever the same again. And when that happens, all you have left are memories and dreams.

* * *

And she had dreamed about him.

For thirty-four years, Breonna dreamed about Alistair, and while the specifics of where and when the dreams took place changed, other things never did. In those dreams, she was never the Queen-Mother or Lady Breonna or the "Rose Queen"—she was always just Bre, beloved of Alistair.

And in her dreams they were always young. It didn't matter what Alistair had looked like at the end, or how she'd changed as the years passed. When the dreams came, time was erased and they were as they had been. She with her hair dark once more and he with his face unlined—though they were not perfect. In each dream, Alistair always bore the scars he had worn in life and she still had his scar upon her breast.

There was love in the dreams. Sometimes it was physical, their bodies joining in that exquisite dance she hadn't felt since his death. In the dreams, it returned, vivid and powerful—his hands and mouth upon her, whispering against her skin and finding all those secret spots, their gasps and cries as they bring each other to completion. These dreams were so real she often awoke flushed and gasping, grasping at the sheets around her and reliving her loss again when she always found herself alone.

Other times, the dreams were simply sweet. They held each other and talked, shared jokes and stories and memories. Breonna told him of what had happened, how Ferelden had grown and prospered, and how their family had done the same. She told him of how Rhoswen has been a wonderful queen, wise and just—her father's daughter. She told him of their grandchildren, Duncan and the ones he never got to meet, and then as the years pass, she told him of their great-grandchildren.

Some part of her always knew they were dreams—knew that no matter how real the dreams seemed, they were probably nothing more than her own mind giving her something to cling to. But she still hoped that wasn't true. She hoped that in at least some of them, Alistair had somehow found her in the Fade.

She never knew when she would dream of him. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to when they occurred, no pattern which she could use to console herself. Yet he always came during her darkest moments, when she was lost in despair. It was those times that make her think there was something real to the dreams.

* * *

She dreamed of him tonight.

Something tickled her face and she brushed it away with a sleepy murmur. After a moment it came again and she dragged her eyes open. She blinked as the white blur in front of her transformed into a rose as her eyes focused. Her gaze fixed past the rose, to the golden skin and smiling hazel eyes of the man holding it before her.

Taking the rose from him, she lifted it to her nose and inhaled deeply. Its scent was full and delicate and she thinks she has never smelled a rose quite this lovely. Holding it carefully, she slid her arms around Alistair. "Thank you, Alistair. It's beautiful," she whispers as she kisses him.

His arms came up to hold her, returning the kiss, and she sighed, perfectly content. She could feel him stroking her back and hair and she settled against his chest. Oh, how she had _missed_ this.

"Are you ready, Bre?" he asked against her hair.

"I'm always ready for you."

He laughed, rich and vibrant and so full of love she could almost feel her heart break. "And glad I am to hear it. But that's not what I meant." He looked into her eyes and his hand cupped the side of her face. "Are you ready to come home, Bre?"

Something clicked into place in her mind as she realized what he'd asked and her heart began to hammer in her chest. Hope flared in her so bright she almost couldn't stand it and tears slid from her eyes.

For the first time in thirty-four years, she knew she would not awaken to an empty room and a cold bed. For the first time in thirty-four years, the ache that had been in her chest since the doors to the Deep Roads closed behind him is gone. For the first time in thirty-four years, she was whole again. And she felt no fear, no trepidation. There was only joy because she had waited for this moment for _so long_.

She pressed herself against him. "I'm ready."

And she was still holding the rose when their lips met.

* * *

The Queen-Mother's maid found her in the morning.

She was a good and loyal woman, so there were no screams or tears when she found the woman she had served for more than twenty years cool and still. She merely felt for a non-existent pulse and then left quietly to inform Teyrn Oren that his aunt had gone to the Maker's side.

She was a good and loyal woman, so she told no one that when she found the Queen-Mother, Breonna had been smiling and that she looked more at peace than she had ever seen her.

She was a good and loyal woman, so she never revealed the odd scar she found when she prepared the body for transport back to Denerim.

She was a good and loyal woman, so she told no one except Queen Rhoswen about what she had found in Breonna's hands—a single, perfect, white rose, unremarkable save for the fact that was winter and there was not a single flowering rosebush to be found in all of Ferelden.

This rose she took from Breonna's hands and wrapped it carefully in a length of silk. All of Thedas knew of the Queen-Mother's obsession with white roses and she knew that _this_ rose must have some meaning. She was not surprised to discover, when after presenting it to Queen Rhoswen, that it has remained unblemished throughout the journey.

All of Ferelden mourned the passing of Queen-Mother Breonna, much like they had mourned the passing of her husband, King Alistair Theirin, more than three decades earlier. Though it was winter, every noble arrived in Denerim for the funeral.

Queen Rhoswen gave the eulogy. The day was bright and clear, the sky a brilliant blue and the air so still and cold that her voice carried effortlessly over the crowd. She spoke of her mother's love for Ferelden and her people. She spoke of her mother's many fine qualities—her wisdom, her patience, her fairness, her sense of humor. She spoke of her mother's love for her family, how she guided all of them and how she will be missed, how they and all of Ferelden are poorer for her loss.

She was not alone in her belief that the sacrifices of the Blight were worth it in exchange for such exceptional monarchs, and so she also spoke of this. And she spoke, briefly, of her parents' love for each other. Bards had sung the songs and told the stories for years, but now the last player in the tale had gone on and they would pass into legend. It was her last chance to remind all those gathered that they were real people, not simply figures.

When she finished, the applause was long and loud

There were some nobles who wondered at the rose Queen Rhoswen placed on her mother's still form. Most assumed it was one the queen has had magically preserved for this occasion. A bard stepped forward, her voice rising in a song of aching loss as Queen Rhoswen took the torch from her husband, Prince Roland, and touched it to the pyre.

The next day, Breonna's ashes are interred next to Alistair's in a private ceremony for her family. Towards the end of winter, the queen had a plaque installed to cover their resting spot—a griffon holding a rose.

And when spring came, and the white roses of Denerim bloomed, the citizens said they had never seen so many nor had they ever been so beautiful.


End file.
